Where I Belong
by Kohaku no Hime
Summary: Written for Alister's Girlfriend. Raphael's relatives have come to town. Alister and Valon intend to find out why. Set post-series, no pairings, takes place after "Surprise."


_This idea kinda hit me over the head._

_It came to me in a dream, and it wouldn't leave me alone until I put it to paper. Then there's the fact that Alister's Girlfriend has written a lot of Gentleshipping oneshots for me lately (and still is), and she needed a present of appreciation._

_Thanks a million, Alister's Girlfriend :3_

_For my usual disclaimer, you can go to my homepage and check it out; I typed it out ahead of time so I wouldn't have to do it anymore. I would remind everyone of the bikers origins, but I think I have written enough stories to sufficiently explain where they all are from. My non-yaoi reminder is here, as always. Oh, and if you don't know/remember who Edith is, she's in "Homecoming"; Misa is their cat, and her first appearance is in "Surprise."_

_You may read._

* * *

"With all due respect, mate, you _do _know this's completely wacked, right?"

"I'm well aware that what we happen to be doing is not normal, yes. But then, nothing we ever do is normal."

"Why're we even _doin' _this again? I mean, I thought Raph's family hated 'im. Why'd they wanna talk to 'im?"

"If I knew that, Valon, I wouldn't be here, now, would I?"

"…Point taken."

Alister and Valon were currently seated in the lobby of a rather expensive hotel, waiting for the eldest of the trio to come out of the ballroom he had gone into. As far as they knew, Raphael did not know that they had followed after him; they weren't even supposed to know why he had come here, let alone the fact he was here at all.

They had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that Raphael had not seen them in his rearview mirror—Alister supposed he was grateful that the police had not been around, because he was sure he and Valon had broken quite a few laws keeping out of their eldest friend's sight.

It had started with a simple telephone call that had come late in the afternoon, and Raphael had been the one who had answered it. Alister had been about to come downstairs when he overheard Raphael talking to someone he called, "Aunt Edith" and it had been enough to keep him in place.

He had unintentionally overheard a part of the telephone conversation, when Raphael had been asking about where to meet his estranged family. Considering what he knew about Raphael's family, he figured he would tag along.

Alister found it troubling that the blonde's family suddenly wished to meet him, after spending several years denying his existence.

True to his nature, Raphael had not told either of his two friends where he had been going; based off of what he had seen from Raphael, Alister knew it was because the older man would not want to burden them with the dealings of his family.

He also knew enough of Raphael's previous track record with his family, and he figured now would be the best time to follow after the blonde.

"Alister, wha' if Raph gets mad at us? I'd kinda get mad too, if I got bugged by my two best mates," Valon said abruptly. He had watched Alister place the tiny circular bug on the collar of Raphael's coat earlier that morning; curiosity had brought the teenage Australian along with Alister.

"I highly doubt that he will," said the redhead, beginning to fiddle with the hand-held radio he had on his lap. "I'm just here to make sure that this meeting, good or bad, turns out for the best. Now be quiet—it's hard enough to hear anything over the ambience."

"Which reminds me, mate…'ow long 'ave you 'ad the spy equipment?"

Alister smirked. "Since DOOM. Electronic bugging comes in handy when you need to find a powerful soul."

Valon shook his head, ignoring the scandalized looks that were being given to both him and Alister; it was most likely because of their appearances, what with the brunette's armored appearance and Alister's midriff baring tank top and duster. At the end of the day, though, it simply wasn't worth it to try and match society's expectations.

Valon was worried about Raphael as well, especially since the older man had been one of his first friends. When Alister had first informed him of the phone call, the Australian had felt a certain knot of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He did not know much about Raphael's living relatives, but what little he did was not reassuring.

"'ow come 'e didn't ask us t' come with 'im?" Valon had asked earlier.

Alister, who had been pulling his boots on at the time, looked up and had replied, "If I know him right, he doesn't want us worrying about him."

That alone set off warning bells in Valon's mind, and he decided to tag along with Alister.

"All right, it sounds like they're talking," said Alister, turning up the volume on the radio. Valon nodded absently, leaning in closer to listen to the conversation and continuing to ignore the people around him as they stared in open disbelief at the pair.

They both knew that this event would most likely end up in disaster.

Yet they both hoped for Raphael's sake that this meeting had good intentions behind it.

* * *

"I suppose you're wondering why you've been called here?" asked brunette Frenchman haughtily, setting down his champagne flute carefully on the marble tabletop. Raphael eyed his uncle warily, unsure of what to say to him just yet.

To be perfectly honest, he had no idea why he had come here at and why he had agreed to meet with his Aunt Edith and her husband, Pierre. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't just hung up the phone when he had heard his uncle's voice on the other end of the line; he supposed that he had been too surprised at the fact that his uncle was calling him at all.

All that Uncle Pierre had said over the phone was that they had to discuss something of great importance.

What his uncle had neglected to tell him was that they would be meeting at a formal event, which meant Raphael had walked into a formal party wearing his purple duster and dark clothing—earrings included.

What a way to endear himself to the relatives.

The party hadn't stopped on his account, which was somewhat surprising; everyone was still milling about. Apparently, though, they were choosing to ignore Raphael. Every now and then, someone would glance over at where he and his relatives were standing, and looks of disapproval for Raphael were directed at him. He calmly ignored the glowers, all too used to them.

"I was curious about that, yes," replied Raphael, frowning as Edith took a seat on the couch; his aunt was wearing another revealing crème colored dress with blue trim, one that seemed far too elegant to wear at this event. Raphael and Pierre remained standing, warily watching each other.

"It has been brought to my attention that you have been neglecting your upbringing since you left the family," said Pierre after a moment of silence, his green eyes cold as he glared at the blonde. He gestured to where Edith had taken a seat. "My wife told me of your last encounter in Paris, which ended with less than desirable behavior coming from you."

Raphael bristled. "She insulted my parents. I defended them," he replied just as coldly.

Pierre sniffed at him. "Indeed," he said, clearly not believing him. "You have forgotten how to respect your elders, Raphael, and you have been running amok since we parted years ago. I decided to hire a detective to find out what you've been doing."

Pierre picked up some papers that had been laying next to his glass, and after slipping on a pair of extravagantly made reading glasses, he read, "'Involved for some time in suspicious cult activity'…'unknown actions done in said cult'…'lives together with a rough crowd'…why, I could go on and on about all this."

Raphael chose to say nothing, deciding to see where Pierre was going with the conversation. Edith rose from the couch to, "get another glass of champagne," and disappeared into the crowd.

"The long and short of it is, Raphael, is that my opinion of you has greatly lessened since we were reunited after the shipwreck. You ignored my hospitality when I offered you a place to stay, you have insulted your aunt, and the crowd you associate yourself with is inexcusably horrifying," said Pierre the moment his wife was out of earshot.

At the mention of Alister and Valon (for who else could it be?) Raphael's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do not bring my friends into this," he said coldly.

"One of them appears to be a cross-dresser, and the other happens to have served some jail time. Am I to believe that you seriously consider scum like them to be your friends?" said Pierre in exasperation. "People like that shouldn't be allowed to associate with someone of your caliber and upbringing, and—!"

"_You will not bring them into this_."

Pierre blinked at Raphael's suddenly menacing tone, and he looked slightly alarmed at the furious light emanating from his nephew's eyes.

"I'll only say this once: leave them out of this conversation. You came here to talk to _me_, and if all you are going to do is insult the people around me then I will leave," Raphael stated calmly but firmly, his blue eyes hard.

"…Very well," Pierre said reluctantly, "but I don't understand why you would choose to live with that kind of crowd when you could easily move back in with us."

At Raphael's warning glare, however, Pierre sighed and reached out for a passing waiter to take another champagne flute off the proffered tray.

"With all due respect, Uncle, what's the point behind this meeting?" Raphael inquired coolly. "Surely you must have some reason, other than to point out the obvious and complain about it."

Pierre looked over at Raphael evenly."Why, so I could invite you back home," he said charitably.

The comment made Raphael freeze and he felt a frown appear on his face. The reason he had turned down the request to stay with his uncle in the first place was because Raphael knew Pierre did not care personally about him. All that the brunette cared about was public appearance, and whether Raphael was happy or not was irrelevant.

Raphael was not a charity case who needed his 'doting and loving' uncle to take him in; he knew how to read, he hadn't missed all those articles in the magazines that had portrayed him as a poor urchin being brought into his uncle's home. He was his nephew…his family. There should have never been a societal obligation for taking him in, but there had been.

That was why he had allowed himself to get disowned.

"Why should I go home? I'm not under eighteen anymore; I'm free to do as I please," Raphael said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Because of all the rumors spreading around. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've put us in? Your actions are disgracing our name; your untimely departure dishonored our family. We had to deal with all sorts of propaganda and rumors that were stressful to deal with, and we need to rectify that. By coming home, you would be admitting that you were wrong to leave and clear up all the negative rumors."

Raphael's frown deepened and his ice-blue eyes narrowed once more. "Are you telling me that you invited me here so you could get me to go back home and lie to everyone about why I left? You want me to _pretend_ to be something I'm not?" he asked, his temper rising steadily.

"Yes. If not, you face formal disinheritance."

Raphael snorted. "That card has already been played, Uncle. You disinherited me when I was sixteen."

Nonetheless he was getting distinctly uneasy by the turn in the conversation. Pierre's last statement had been loud enough to draw a few curious stares. In short, he did not like the way this was heading.

"Yes, but it was never put into documentation. I had been reconsidering it as of late…after all, you are my sister-in-law's last surviving child, and I'd hoped you'd come to your senses. If you come back now, I'm willing to forgive you for your mistake."

This time, Raphael did nothing to hide the contemptuous laugh that had been bubbling inside of him since the subject had been brought up."_Forgive me?_ For what, may I ask? Seeing your fake hospitality for what it was?" asked the blonde incredulously. "That has to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life."

Pierre eyed him contemplatively, his green eyes suddenly sharpening. A sly smile appeared on his face, and he said, "Your answer is no, then? You once again refuse my generosity? When you first stepped off that boat, I was the first one there to greet you; I stopped them from sending you to an orphan's home. I took you in, out of the kindness of my heart, and _this _is how you repay me? By dressing up as some kind of punk and breaking your aunt's heart?"

Raphael had heard this same speech all those years ago, when he had been first kicked out of the family. But that had been when they were alone, in the privacy of his uncle's home. At the moment, Pierre's voice had been steadily rising, so that people in hearing range were now looking at them. Whispers were beginning to spread along the room, and soon most of the people were watching the pair interestedly.

Suddenly, he understood why he had been called here.

Raphael had been brought before these people as a prop, as something his uncle could use to get himself into a good light and back into good graces. If Raphael chose to go back with them and admit he was wrong all those years ago, Pierre would be seen as the all-forgiving man who welcomed home the prodigal son. If not, disowning his "rebellious" nephew publicly would show that he was a man who did not tolerate Raphael's "kind" and prove to be the noble hero.

Either way one looked at it though, Pierre was using him to regain his lost popularity. He was using Raphael as a stepping stone.

The worst part of it was that he could do nothing about it.

To speak out in his defense would yield no result, since everyone thought he was a hooligan to begin with and everything he said would be attributed to his appearance; punks were supposed to say such things, after all. He could not very well punch his uncle in the face. That wouldn't solve anything, except to prove the point that his uncle had made.

Pierre had been continuing on with what had to be a rehearsed speech, but Raphael barely heard it over the buzzing of that realization in his mind. He was brought back to the present, however, when his uncle had one last scathing line to deliver to his wayward nephew:

"I'm glad your parents are dead, if only for the fact that they can't see what you've become."

Raphael's face went unnaturally blank.

It was perhaps lucky that he had remained silent for so long, for the people who had been listening to that conversation lost interest, returning to their activities. It wasn't until the last of them had looked away before Raphael took a step closer to his uncle. Pierre took a step backward, startled by his nephew's countenance.

Raphael had drawn himself up, lifting his chin slightly to look down at Pierre, and for just a minute he seemed to possess all the aristocracy that his family had bred into him. His blue eyes had both hardened and sharpened, glaring at him frostily from where he stood. His voice, when he started talking, stayed low but carried all the cold regality of a king.

"I don't ever want you to tell me what my parents wanted from me," Raphael said quietly, his eyes remaining hard. "I knowwhat they wanted—what they _still _want—for me to do. Who I am, what I've become, who I choose to be friends with…all of that is my business and mine alone. Do not _ever_ talk about my parents in my hearing again, Uncle."

Pierre looked startled for a moment before his expression faded into one of neutrality. "I don't really care either way about it anymore," he sniffed haughtily. "As of today, you are no longer my concern, and I am glad to be shot of you. You are a disgrace to our family, and I say good riddance to you."

BANG.

Everyone in the room jumped and silence filled the room; the orchestra stopped playing their instruments and looked over at the door, which looked and sounded like it had been kicked open.

At first, Raphael could not see how they had come open; maybe one of the guests had fallen from the outside into the doors and had knocked them open. But as the crowd suddenly began to part, the blonde biker understood why silence had fallen and he had to hide a smile.

Those two certainly knew how to make an entrance.

Valon was storming towards where Raphael, Pierre, and Edith were gathered, his cerulean eyes blazing with a furious light and his posture menacing; Alister was not too far behind, his face as blank as stone but his gray eyes harder than cold steel.

The two younger bikers came to a halt in the space between Raphael and Pierre, not quite in front of Raphael but still close enough to flank him on either side. Their expressions were colder than ice as they glared at Pierre.

There was silence for a moment longer, in which no one dared speak; the tension in the air was suffocating, and everyone waited with baited breath to see what would happen next.

"Ignore him, Raphael," Alister said quietly at last, his voice cold. "Anything said by a man so blinded by his own arrogance should be disregarded."

"Yup," said Valon with his trademark grin in place (though the smile looked rather menacing because of the dangerous light in his eyes). "'e's jus' a stupid wanker, pay no mind to 'im."

Pierre, stunned by the sudden appearance of Alister and Valon, finally said, "You do realize you're trespassing here, correct? The exit is that way, I believe," he continued, pointing to the door dismissively.

Valon looked over at Alister. "Y'mean t' tell us we crashed the wrong party?" he asked with fake surprise.

"It seems like it—we were told to ruin the party with the pompous windbag in it. If you are here, though," Alister said with a careless shrug, "one would assume we are where we need to be."

Several people in the crowd looked as if they were trying really hard not to laugh. Raphael was one of them, fighting to keep the amusement off of his face as he watched his companion's actions.

The brown-haired man growled in annoyance at the insult and when he realized that these two would not be cowed so easily his scowl deepened. "What business do you have here?" he barked authoritatively. "I _will not_ tolerate—!"

"Cram it, Pops," Valon said with a pleasant smile.

"I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised," Alister said conversationally, cutting off Pierre's indignant squawk. "I should have known you would let a member of your own family take the fall. What an admirable role model you are. Clearly I should respect you for that," he finished mockingly.

"Yeah," Valon said cheerfully, though the happiness did not reach his eyes. "We should get t'gether for shrimp on the barbie sometime."

"I ought to have the pair of you thrown out, you…you—!"

"Miscreants?" Alister supplied, eyes narrowing.

"'ooligans?" Valon offered.

"Punks? Please, do us all a favor and spare yourself the trouble of thinking—we've heard all the names before," said Alister smoothly. "We're the guys who wrote that whole ditty about 'sticks and stones.'"

"Y'know what else, mate? We don't really fancy you callin' Raph a disgrace," said Valon, his eyes darkening dangerously. "So what if Raph left? After listenin' t' you, I can unnerstan' why 'e did."

"Wh-What do you mean?" snapped Pierre indignantly. "How do you know what we were talking about?"

"We're psychic," Alister deadpanned.

Pierre stared back at the two of them disbelievingly.

"While we're 'ere, lemme straighten somethin' out for ya: Raph's not some sorta museum exhibit, 'e's not a circus show, 'n' 'e is not someone you can bully. 'e's our _friend_, numbskull, whether ya approve 'r not, 'n' we aren' gonna let ya do anythin' t' 'im," Valon said coldly, all traces of his carefree smile gone.

Pierre seemed to have recovered, for he suddenly snapped, "Well, of course he's your friend. All you rough sorts stick together! Who do you plan on beating up next? Me? Just because I 'insulted' Raphael?"

"Oh please," said Alister with a groan. "Don't start that up. We've wasted enough time with you as it is."

Valon looked at Pierre again, sizing him up before shaking his head and muttering, "'Sides, you bloody well aren' worth the effort to beat up, you pompous git."

Ignoring Pierre's indignant sputters, Valon turned to face Raphael with one of his carefree grins fully in place. "C'mon, Raph. Le's get outta here and go 'ome," he said, brushing past him to leave the room.

Raphael looked back at his uncle and offered a wan smile. "It was nice talking to you, Uncle," he said wryly, following after Valon and ignoring the people who were now looking at the trio with grudging respect and mild amusement.

Alister looked coldly at Pierre. "Since you have formally disinherited Raphael now, there really isn't a reason you should keep in touch with him. Don't call us again," he stated frostily.

With that parting statement, he directed a nod and mocking smile directed at Pierre and Edith (who had come up behind her husband sometime during the conversation, her mouth partially open in shock) went back to the entrance to the ballroom and slipped through the doorway, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Valon, let go of my arm."

"Nup, mate. Faster we're outta 'ere, the betta."

The moment Raphael had stepped out of the ballroom Valon had taken a hold of his arm and had begun tugging him through the lobby and out into the parking lot. The blonde made no effort to free himself from the boy; the fact that his two best friends had just simply appeared from nowhere had his mind reeling.

Not to mention he was trying his hardest not to laugh out loud at the moment from the shock of it all.

The grip on Raphael's arm was not released until the two bikers were outside of the hotel and out in the parking lot, whereupon Valon released him, walked to the nearest street lamp, and punched the concrete base as violently as he could. Then the teen yelped as he realized that punching concrete _hurt_.

Raphael, startled at last out of his confusion, hurried over to where the teen was cradling his hurt hand. "Valon, why did you do that?" he asked exasperatedly.

"I wanted t' punch their faces in," growled Valon hoarsely. "I wanted t' 'it 'em so bad…no wonder you never talk 'bout 'em. They're bloody worse 'n 'arpies!"

Raphael said nothing, pulling out a handkerchief and tying it around Valon's bleeding knuckles instead. "I was wondering why I went to go see them in the first place. I forgot that they really _are_ that bad," he commented at last when he finished with Valon's hurt hand.

The Australian growled softly under his breath before he looked over at Raphael, his blue eyes worried. "'ey mate…you all right? Sorry we didn' get in 'ere faster, we were both kinda blown away by what that bloke was sayin' t' ya."

Raphael shrugged. "As all right as one can be after being chewed out by their relatives," he said. Frowning as he registered Valon's sentence, he asked suspiciously, "How did you two know what Pierre said? For that matter, how did you know where I was?"

Valon looked more than a little uncomfortable. "Well…Alister heard ya talkin' to your relatives on the phone yesterday…and 'e 'ad a few lefto'er bugs from our time a' DOOM, and we kinda…the collar of your coat, Raph."

Raphael glanced down and after a moment saw the circular device on the innermost fold of his duster. Wordlessly, he took it off and stared at it. For a long moment he said nothing, and Valon could practically hear the wheels in his friend's head turning.

"Are you mad, mate?" Valon asked worriedly. "If ya are, 'm right sorry, but I jus' felt like I had t' be there and so did Alister."

"After what happened in there, I'm glad we tagged along."

The other two turned at the sound of Alister's voice in time to spot the redhead coming toward them, his gray eyes no longer angry but watching the eldest of the trio emotionlessly. "I'd heard stories, but to actually find out that they really were nothing more than pompous and arrogant fools…" he trailed off quietly, a hint of menace to his voice.

After a brief pause, Raphael cleared his throat and said sternly, "You two definitely need to learn a lesson about _tact_."

"'Ere now, what's 'tact'?" asked the Australian far too innocently, looking up at his much taller friend. "Is that some kinda candy?"

Alister merely raised an eyebrow at the blonde, a playful smirk on his face.

Again, Raphael had to squash the urge to suddenly start laughing. "I didn't ask you two to come along," he said gruffly, knowing that the two of them understood the real meaning behind that statement.

"Yeah, well…s'not like you asked t' get put on display like some sorta zoo exhibit either," retorted Valon. "We'd 've rather put up with the insults than let 'em tear into ya like that."

"Besides, you've always been there when we needed it. We figured it was time we repaid the favor," said Alister quietly, the smirk disappearing off of his face.

There was a long silence, during which Raphael said nothing; he had an unreadable expression on his face. Alister and Valon glanced at each other, worry creasing their brows (though with Alister it was hardly noticeable).

"Raph? You okay, mate?" asked Valon, breaking the silence. "Are you mad at us for spyin' on ya?"

Raphael looked back at the pair of them for one last minute before he folded his arms and stated, "A little."

When Valon (and even Alister) looked visibly guilty, the tough blonde gave them a warm and genuine smile. "But I'm glad you did it anyway," he said simply, his sky-blue eyes filled with happiness.

The "thank you" remained unspoken, but it was there.

Valon grinned back at him and Alister offered a slight smile, the guilt vanishing abruptly. "You're welcome," they said simultaneously, then blinked at each other in confusion.

"Stop readin' my mind!" Valon barked indignantly.

"Why would I want to read your mind? There's not that much there to begin with," replied Alister flatly, placing his sunglasses back on.

"What 'bout tha' one sayin' that says great minds think alike?"

"The one who made that up obviously hadn't met you."

That tore it. Raphael started to laugh without any warning or hesitation, no longer able to hold it in. Relief that his friends had come and the stress from the encounter spilled out in hearty, booming laughter. His two younger friends stared in surprise, before Valon joined in on the laughter and Alister offered an amused smile.

Right now, Raphael was grateful for the encounter. True, he hadn't asked for all the things that Pierre had said to him and he certainly could have gone without all the public attention. But if anything, meeting his relatives reassured him of Alister's and Valon's friendship. They both had risked his relative's ire to come to their friend's defense.

To most people, that certainly wouldn't have counted as anything grand—they hadn't exactly taken a bullet for him.

In Raphael's book, though, that counted for something.

The laughter only lasted for a brief time before Raphael stopped, his laughter tapering off. "Come on, you two. Let's go home—Misa's probably looking for us," he said, an amused smile still playing on his features.

"Not t' mention 'm 'ungry—I forgot t' eat lunch," said Valon, placing a hand over his loudly growling stomach.

Alister's eyebrow rose. "That's your own fault. I am not making lunch for you."

The fluffy-haired brunette sputtered indignantly. "I wasn' bloody gonna ask ya!"

Raphael smiled slightly. "If you two are done, can we leave? I'm hungry myself, and we aren't getting anything done standing here and arguing."

The two of them blinked, before the teen let out a whoop and ran for his motorcycle. "Last one 'ome 'as to make lunch for us!"

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Assuming anyone will race with you," he called after the boy's retreating back, quickening his pace nonetheless.

Raphael shook his head as he followed after them. If he knew any better, he was going to end up in last place in the dash for home, but he didn't mind; he was the cook to begin with, Alister occasionally making meals when Raphael couldn't.

_"You are a disgrace to our family."_

Raphael halted for a moment as the phrase echoed through his head. His smile faded, and he turned to regard the hotel. Pierre and Edith were still in there, no doubt, probably stunned and fending off embarrassing questions. He felt something of almost sympathy strike him; his family was probably getting more negative attention than positive.

The blonde biker looked for a moment longer at the hotel before he turned and continued to walk toward his motorcycle.

Maybe Pierre was right…maybe he was a disgrace. But frankly, the blonde did not care about what his uncle said. The opinion of those people did not honestly matter to him—it hadn't ever really mattered to begin with, as a matter of fact.

Raphael knew where he was wanted, and he had no intention of ever leaving that place.

"You comin', mate?" called Valon from where his motorcycle was parked, a trademark smile on his face. Alister was watching him as well, his eyes hidden by his glasses. The older man noticed that his friends had parked their motorcycles next to his, and he shook his head in amusement.

"…Yeah," Raphael replied, a smile making its way onto his face. "I'm coming."


End file.
